Yn Anfarwol
by J. E. Talveran
Summary: This story is undergoing extensive revises, the new version will be up under the title Nightfall. Coming soon to fanfiction shelves near you!
1. Prologue

**Title:** yn anfarwol  
**Chapter:** Prologue  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Harry Potter's race against time to become immortal before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The UnSeelie High Queen's name is a vague references from a character in the Merry Gentry series.  
(**A/N) **This story came to me in the dead of night and I've been working on it for a while now. I am already up to the sixth chapter and am definitely planning to stick with this one. All other writing projects are on hold. I now have a beta, and she's doing a wonderful job squashing my dreams that I'm a brilliant writer ;) Actually, she's great and helps catch out the mistakes I miss when I go over my story two dozen times. My thanks to her.

* * *

Only the floor still looked like something pulled out of a manor, or from a palace. Made of polished black marble, it glistened in the torchlight and threw back the eerie glow from the tips of the wands that were gripped in pale hands. The state of the floor was ironic, the gleam a contrast with the decaying state of the walls, ceiling, and the souls of the men and women who passed over it.

One cloak slid over it like a sheet of dark water, flowing about the legs of its owner with a sinister life of its own. As it moved across the plane, other cloaks stepped away from it, some from respect born of battle camaraderie, most from the fear associated with the owner's delight in torture and pain. Bellatrix Lestrange's reputation was well-known among her fellow Death Eaters, and she preferred it that way; extracting information more fluidly was her idea of an easy night. And this night's work brought something even better, so much so that her steps seems to bounce as she made her way up the short flight of stairs to the central room.

The doors opened of their own accord, pulling back into the darkness that lay beyond. She stepped in, her heels echoing over the bare walls. She didn't understand the Lord's need for such solitude but knew not to question it. Questions could get one killed. The doors closed behind her with a groan and shut her alone in the room.

As alone as one can be with the Dark Lord, that is. He loomed up in front of her, his scarlet eyes a hellish beacon in the inky abyss. He made no sound, gave no inkling that she was there. She would make the first move; it was the rule.

"I got it, my Lord," she began, her voice full with pride for her skills. "The Longbottom boy. Seems that little Potter told him the prophecy out of pity. Out of a supposed noble wish for him to know."

The expression on Lord Voldemort's face shifted a fraction but remained unreadable. The information wasn't enough to warrant a response yet. Lestrange held back a disappointed sigh and continued on, this time without the flair.

"Remember what we had, well there's more. Here." She reached into her robes and pulled out a slip of parchment, stained with tiny drops of blood as if the writer had been bleeding when it was written.

An alabaster hand slipped from the darkness and seized the paper, lifting it to be read. Lord Voldemort's expression morphed to a dark look of anger, then to one of speculation, and finally to a look filled with such ferocity it made Lestrange take a step back involuntarily. Her eyes widened and her lips parted but she regained control quickly.

"M-my Lord?" She asked, half-dreading the answer.

Lord Voldemort set his gaze past her towards the closed doors, and his lips curled into a horrible mockery of a smile. "I want everyone back here. Immediately. I do not care what they're doing at the time. " As he spoke a slender finger traced over the Dark Mark tattooed into his own forearm; with it was a mental summons. Lestrange felt the fire flare in her left arm and she bit down hard on her tongue to confront the pain. Blood welled into her mouth as the Lord stepped to one side and around her, walking towards the doors.

She followed. She stepped out into the torchlight feeling as if she was still left in the dark.

* * *

The circular table was not a symbol of equality in the chambers of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Rather, it underlined the mistrust they held each other. No one was hidden from another's sight. One could glance at his fellows and never let it be seen. They were united by only one thing: their loyalty towards the Dark Lord who ruled over them. That was the connection; everything else revolved around politics to clamber to the top, to be the one not blamed for the latest mistake. Lord Voldemort knew this and exploited it. The Death Eaters knew that he knew and tried harder to achieve their goals.

It wasn't the healthiest of environments, but how could one step out?

The meeting started with whispers and side-glances as one by one the Death Eaters filled their assigned seats. This was also a ploy to keep them on their toes. If they sat in the same place at a round table then who knew exactly where they stood?

Lord Voldemort stood and his gaze fell onto each of them before he spoke. "I have now the full prophecy as was spoken by the Seer to Dumbledore so long ago."

Silence met this. No one dared to speak; no one dared to steal what Lord Voldemort thought was his moment.

"Thus I have decided that if I am to emerge victorious, there is only one way: I must become all-powerful. I must become immortal." He stopped and then looked around again. Blank stares met his, and then suddenly it was like a match was lit.

"But my Lord---" started Crabbe.

"My Lord—" Lucius Malfoy made to stand, but a wave of the Lord's hand made him sit.

"No, there is no other alterative. The Philosopher's Stone is out of my reach. There are other ways."

No one wanted to argue that, yet none of them had an agreement to voice.

"There may be a way, my Lord, without the Stone," came the soft voice from the opposite end of the table, directly across from Lord Voldemort. "A ritual, from the ancient texts of my people."

Lord Voldemort gestured for him to continue.

"It's a rare scroll, and I haven't come across it for many years, but it is there and it is real."

"What will it do?"

"Make you likened to a God." The voice promised, the mask a stark blot of emotionless white. "No longer the Dark Lord but our Dark God, our Master."

Lord Voldemort's eyes slid to Lestrange, a question in them. Should they run with this? She jerked her chin a fraction in the affirmative gesture and he turned back to the Death Eater with the voice of silk.

"Very well. If this scroll exists, and the power promised is true, then all of our efforts must be used. Find it, and you will be rewarded handsomely." His eyes narrowed, and his lips pulled into a cruel grin. "Attempt to betray me in any way, or use the magic contained for yourself, and I'll have you given to Bella at her mercy."

The silence was thick at that. To be at Lestrange's mercy was to be condemned to a fate worse then death. At least with death the pain stopped. The Death Eaters nodded one by one, and then one stood. Lucius Malfoy.

Lord Voldemort watched him. Always at the meetings Malfoy would be the devil's advocate, the one walking in the other direction. "Malfoy?"

"My Lord, what if this is merely a gimmick from a spy?" Malfoy asked. Before he could be cut off he pushed on. "What if our enemies catch wind that we're with no guard, what if they choose to attack?"

"Then a time limit. Would that suit you, Lucius?"

Malfoy waited a beat without answering and then gave a twist of the head that could be a nod. "We would still—"

"As much as you love to play at worrying, enough with the overly dramatic. Even if this was a perfect time for Dumbledore to pull an amazing attack, how would he even know to find us? And, if there is a spy in our midst, no matter, for you will all be leaving. Directly after this meeting is ended."

A burst of protest rose and died quickly at the glare Lord Voldemort sent.

"You will be sorted into groups of three, never to leave the others' sights."

Lestrange quirked an eyebrow and Malfoy scowled. As they were the only two without their masks, they were the only reactions he could make out. No matter. His word was law and if one thought otherwise, Lestrange was looking for her next victim.

"The time limit is by the full moon. A fortnight from now." He looked to the Death Eater across from him. "Is that enough time to find this scroll?"

The Death Eater nodded. "Plenty. You will be re-birthed by the new moon."

This pleased Lord Voldemort. "Excellent. You are all dismissed. Stand up and group into threes." The Death Eaters did, although not without grumbles muttered under breaths. Soon they were grouped off. "Go, and return here by the full moon, or I shall make you return."

The warning was very real. With it ringing in their ears, they all left.

Lord Voldemort stood at the circular table, the torches spilling light the color of old blood on him, and he laughed.

* * *

Number four, Privet Drive.

He told himself it was only a pit stop. A pause in the road. He didn't want to admit that it was a closure for him. The end of a chapter in his life. His eyes roamed the empty walls of the small room and then dropped to the weathered floorboard under which he had kept his school-books.

Aunt Petunia had allowed him this much, to be able to collect what little he had left here. She could hardly meet his gaze when he stepped inside, and Dudley 's mumble about a special on the television didn't help matters much.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the heralded savior of the wizarding world, simply shrugged and trudged up the stairs to his old bedroom. The graduation ceremony had kept him for a day longer at Hogwarts, and his stuff was still packed in the back of the car he and Ron borrowed just for this. All that was left was...nothing.

Harry turned to leave but a flutter in the corner of his perception stopped him, turned him to find an unassuming letter on his bed. Tilting his head to the side in curiosity, he picked it up and opened it, his eyes going over the tiny scrawled message.

_Boy,_

_He Who Must Not Be Named_ _has found a way to turn the tides for the forces of darkness. By the Full Moon he will be on his way to obtaining a power that will surmount the prophecy you and he are under. Do not underestimate the drive he has to rid his 'new world' of you. He will stop at nothing. Do not try to attack; it will only stall what is to come._

_I leave you with this question: How can one overcome their destiny if it is to die by another's hand? Know this, I am not a friend, nor am I an enemy. I only wish to see the outcome. Never try to contact or find me._

_D. E._

Harry's eyes went over it again, and again. Was it a hoax? If so it was a poor one. But if it wasn't, then what would the sender be going on about?

"Either I kill him or he kills me," Harry sighed. "There is no other outcome." He tucked the letter into his pocket and gathered his things. They were due at the Order Headquarters by evening and if anything else, he could have Hermione try her hand at it.


	2. Questio Tabellae

**Title:** Yn Anfarwol  
**Chapter:** Questio Tabellae  
**Rating:** Teen/PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter's race against time to become immortal before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does.  
**DISCLAIMER:** As of yet nothing mentioned is mine, except for the new hide-out.  
(**A/N) **Here's the edited version of chapter one as well. Once again, thanks to my beta, Elsie, for going over this. I'm still not sure on the rating, so I'll keep it at Teen for now and if it does shoot up, which I expect it won't, I'll mark it higher.

* * *

**Questio Tabellae**

Harry and Ron walked up the steps, not to twelve, Grimmauld Place, but to another hidden house on the other side of London. After the death of Harry's godfather the house had passed to the closest relatives: the Malfoys. No one knew exactly what the Malfoys wanted with the house, but after a rather short-lived legal battle between Nymphadora Tonks and Mrs. Malfoy, the house was quickly cleansed of all things that could point to the Order of the Phoenix. Not surprisingly, Dumbledore had found another spot in a few days after Tonks had returned, a paper bunched in her hands and her hair a violent shade of black with zigzagging white stripes. It wasn't as large as Grimmauld, but it suited their needs nonetheless.

Stepping through the narrow doorway, Harry and Ron removed their coats, set Harry's trunk by the staircase and moved into the den, nodding to a drowsy portrait of an ancient wizard as they did.

Ginny was already seated, her legs folded under her while she read the latest _Daily Prophet_, her eyes flicking up and over them before returning back to the page.

"The attacks have died down," she started by way of greetings. She tossed the _Daily Prophet _on the table before her and then looked to them, her eyes going over their reactions.

Ron's was expected. His face lit up in a grin. "That's great!" He turned to Harry to share his grin, but that faded with Harry's expression. Ron's grin fell into a frown born of speculation and confusion. "Er, right Harry?"

Harry shrugged. The note was out of his pocket now and in his hands, the words etched into his brain from the ride over. "Depends."

"Depends?" Ron asked, "What do you mean 'depends?'" Harry handed him the note as an answer. Ginny came to read over Ron's shoulder, and as one, the siblings' eyes widened and their faces grew pale.

"Who sent you this?" Ron looked up from the paper.

"Don't know, someone named 'D.E.'," At Ginny's look, he scowled. "I know it's just a pen name, but it's all I have."

Ginny stepped away from Ron and sighed. "Well, he's talking about escaping death, right?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, 'stopping destiny' or somethin' along that line."

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed, much like Hermione's did when she was thinking.

Ron watched his sister for a moment, then sighed. "Too bad Hermione isn't here. She could have this figured out before we could say 'Quidditch.'" His confidence in Hermione didn't instill confidence in Ginny; rather, it made his sister's thoughtful expression sink into a glare.

"Hermione isn't here, now," she snapped, her pride dented. "Let me have a try at it, all right?"

Harry handed it over, after taking it from Ron. "Here, you've spent enough time with Hermione, maybe she rubbed off on you."

Ginny took it back over to her seat. "Hmm. He refers to the prophecy. Harry, what exactly was in the prophecy? You never told us."

Ron looked at him. "That's true! You never did."

"I never wanted to," Harry grumbled.

"Why?"

"Because." Harry sat in one of the plushier armchairs and shoved a hand through his hair, then pulled off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on. "Just …because."

Ginny seemed to examine his reactions and then leaned forward, her eyes suddenly bright. "_Because_ isn't the answer we're looking for, Harry."

He felt like sinking into the chair. "Yeah. I know." He sat up straighter and also leaned forward, his head hanging while he tried to voice the dark card fate had dealt him. "The prophecy told me how to defeat Lord Voldemort."

This caught their attention, and like kids being told their favorite horror tale, they crept closer, their eyes wide, their mouths slightly agape, and their nerves tensed for the punch line.

"I have to kill him. Or he kills me." That didn't get a reaction. Harry frowned, then repeated it louder.

"We heard you the first time Harry," Ron said, wincing at his tone. "We're just …well, relieved."

"Relieved!"

"Yeah, there are more horrible prophecies out there, Harry," Ginny quipped.

"I have to kill him, murder him!" Harry threw out, his tone just barely under a yell.

"What do you think you've been doing since you were eleven?" Ginny shot back, her voice the opposite of his, cool, collected to his rash and edgy. "I heard how you prevented Voldemort from getting the Stone, Qurriell died from the touch of your skin. Remember how you saved me? You stabbed the fang into the diary? Well, that killed him. Harry, this is only the final death for him."

Harry shook his head, frustrated that she wasn't getting it. "Ginny—"

Ron cut him off. "No, she's right mate, there are worse fates. What, did you think you were going to bring You-Know-You in alive?"

"Well, you two seem too grateful that I have to murder him. Or become his latest victim."

"We're not grateful because of that," Ginny started. "We're grateful because it's nothing worse. There was a wizard who also had a prophecy on him to liberate the magical world from the tyranny of a evil viscount. Well, what he had to do was sacrifice all he loved to prove that he was willing to go the distance to free the land he loved. Do you want to know what he sacrificed? His family."

Ron continued the next bit. "He had to kill his wife and his two daughters. The Wizard Village of _Vie par la Rivière_ celebrates a holiday called _Deuil Semaine_," Ron paused and Ginny picked up.

"That means 'Sacrifice Week'. Actually it translates into something else, but that's not my point," Ginny said, "So, you see why we're relieved? It means you only have to face him one-on-one. No hidden catches, no worrying about him bringing back Grindelwald's power. Just you, him, and a final duel."

"That's not that comforting," Harry muttered.

"You're right. It's not."

Ginny's reply made Harry's temper sink like a stone and he couldn't help but toss a wry grin her way. "That …wasn't what I expected."

"I try to be different." She smiled and he smiled back. "Look, maybe now we've narrowed it down a bit."

Ron looked her way. "How? All we did was find out that Harry will be crossing wands with You-Know-Who."

"This means that there's only a limited amount of ways he can turn the odds in his favor." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron, did you get dropped on your head?" Ron rolled his eyes in response and Ginny smacked him in turn.

Harry blew out a long breath and turned to begin pacing the three meters of floor space. "So, he can't bring anyone back from the dead, can't borrow power, can't create a weapon to destroy me, can't have anyone else kill me, can't force _me_ to kill me. What's left?"

Ron shrugged; it was an awkward roll of the shoulders but suited the redhead just fine. "Don't know. The only way is if he couldn't die and you could."

"That's it! Ron! You're a genius!" Ginny squealed, leaping on him in a hug. She pulled away to explain to a now very puzzled Harry. "If You-Know-Who can't die, then he's beaten the prophecy." She got up and helped her brother up as well. "And the only way he can make sure he doesn't die while you _do_, Harry, is to become immortal."

"That's impossible without the Philosopher's Stone, right?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, I overheard Hermione asking Professor McGonagall a few months ago. McGonagall said that over the ages a few ways to break the mortality barrier were created. Some were lost to Legend, most were destroyed in the Alexandria Library; she did say a few survived, passed down through generations, and guarded like a dragon's nest.

"So it wouldn't be too much of a leap to think Voldemort is going after the few remaining ways." Ginny handed the note to Harry. "Still, to be on the safe side, I think we should ask Professor Dumbledore what he thinks."

"He's not here now," Ron said.

Ginny cracked a grin. "Oh yes he is, he's upstairs with Lupin going over the latest raid," Before either of the boys could say anything she hurriedly continued. "I just wanted to see how well I could do Hermione's job, did I pass?"

Harry opened his mouth to snap, then closed it, before shaking his head. "Come on then." He rose to his feet and walked with Ron to the stairs. Ginny wasn't too far behind.

"Well?"

"Quiet, Ginny," Ron shushed.

The room in which Professors Dumbledore and Lupin chose to converse in was small and crowded with an assortment of items with unknown properties to the three teenagers standing in the doorway, hands shoved into pockets, and eyes nervously darting from one gadget to the next. They each murmured a passing greeting to the departing Lupin as he went by and down the stairs.

"Ah, Harry. Ron, Ginny," Dumbledore nodded to each of them. "Have a seat, would you?"

The three shuffled to seats. Ron and Ginny turned as one to look at Harry. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the now slightly wrinkled note.

"What's this?" Dumbledore read the note with a flicker of a glance and then stared to Harry, blue eyes unreadable. "When did you receive this?"

"Earlier, at the Dursley's," Harry said.

"Do you know what it's referring to?"

Harry kept quiet and Ginny took the chance to join. "We think it means that You-Know-Who is trying to become immortal."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye grew as he looked her way. "That's exactly where the train of my thoughts was going. If school were in session, I'd award house points, but alas, I can only offer a sherbet lemon." As Ginny laughed, he turned back to the conversation at hand and his manner turned towards a more serious nature.

"Harry, this note shows that what I've feared for awhile has come to pass. Ever since that night in the Ministry, I knew that the Death Eaters would try their hardest to find some way to achieve what Voldemort desperately craves: his immortality." Dumbledore set the note down, the twinkle banished from his gaze.

"Not even Grindelwald fought so hard to achieve this feat," he said, walking over and sitting down behind a table. "Now I'm not sure what there is left to prepare for."

"Sir," Ginny began, "Can we also make Harry immortal? Beat You-Know-Who at his own game?"

Dumbledore slowly nodded as he went over in his head all the possibilities that could be awakened if that came true. He looked again to Harry.

"That is one way of unraveling this plot before it has time to be set," he offered, not taking either side until Harry voiced an opinion.

Harry's brow furrowed. "How?" he asked, "The Stone's destroyed, Ron and Ginny said that the other ways of gaining immortality were guarded tighter then Gringotts. Plus, I'm not sure I even want to become immortal."

Ginny tossed a sidelong glance at him but said nothing. Ron looked worried, and appeared to be biting his tongue in order to prevent himself from saying something he would regret, and Dumbledore merely stared, not giving away any emotion.

Harry looked at the three of them, his gaze lingering before finally turning skyward with a muffled curse. "I guess it's my only shot though, right?"

Dumbledore gave a weary nod. "After Severus's death, there was no one to take up the mantle of the spy. Our eyes are closed on Voldemort's movements. If we tried to retrieve a spell we wouldn't be sure that we'd claim one that can make you immortal before Voldemort. I fear that, once he has become it, the war would end. He would be able to simply walk in and kill you without blinking."

Harry had never heard Dumbledore say he was afraid and that tugged at his own doubts and fears, making them curl around his heart like a dragon, squeezing ever-tighter as the whispers crawled through his mind. "So, there's no chance?"

"Now, I didn't say that," Dumbledore said. "There is one avenue that we could take and have little worry about Voldemort or time."

Harry was confused. "There is?"

"Have you heard of the Fey, Harry?" he asked, standing up. He walked over to a large, oak bookcase on the far wall and grabbed a rather weathered book. The pages looked brittle and the spine was ready to fall to pieces. Dumbledore set the book on the table and gestured for the three to gather around.

He opened to a page with two figures standing tall, a man and a woman. Both were tall, and the most beautiful people Harry had ever laid eyes on. Their features were regal, delicate, and exotic, everything that was born from a dream of nobility. The man was like the sun, his skin a golden-bronze that dazzled brightly, his eyes the only difference of color. Those eyes were each three circles of blue, like three oceans curled around the other. He stood with a tall spear in hand and stared proudly into the east, or to the right of the page. Harry looked to the woman and found her to be the night to the man's day. Her skin also glowed, but was like the cold light of the stars, pale and distant. Her eyes were circles of charcoal, the smoke hiding things that Harry wasn't sure he wanted revealed. As tall as the man, she bore a sword nearly her height in length and stared into the west.

Harry tore his attention from the picture. "Who are they?"

"They are the rulers of the Fey Kingdoms, the High King and Queen of the Seelie and UnSeelie courts."

"Fey? That means fairy, right? But those are pixies and house-elves, not …not these two," Ron sputtered.

Dumbledore nodded. "You are correct and mistaken Ron."

"What?"

Dumbledore pointed to the picture again. "The Sidhe, which is the race from which these two hail, are the highest court of the Fey, which encompasses pixies, house-elves, and the fairies Professor Flitwick allows in his classroom. The man is King Taranis, the woman, Queen Andais. Respectively they are Seelie and UnSeelie. They are also what you must seek to become Harry."

It was Harry's turn to be dumbfounded. "What?"

Dumbledore laughed softly, chuckling at Harry's bewilderment. "I said what I meant. The Sidhe, though they are a fickle race, can grant their status onto worthy mortal candidates. It has been done rarely over the thousands of years since they become known to mankind."

"I'm not worthy."

"That is not for you or I to decide. They choose what they will. All you must do is request it."

Harry's eyebrow arched suspiciously. "All I have to do is ask and they'll give me it?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak but something over Harry's shoulder made him stop in mid-thought. "Professor McGonagall, perhaps you could enlighten Harry on the formalities of becoming immortal via the Queen's blessing."

Harry turned to her as well. "He said all I had to do was ask for it."

"No." Professor McGonagall stepped through the door. "That is only the first step."

"I'm confused," Harry said.

Professor McGonagall sighed and glanced to the portrait in the book. "I know you are, Potter. Albus brought them up because they do not like You-Know-Who. When he was younger and first going around, he insulted them terribly and killed the Queen's favorite niece during an attack on a Muggle household."

"You said they are immortal," Harry said, wondering about the double-standard she just exposed. "They're not?"

Professor McGonagall's eyebrow quirked, it seemed a rare case when she was called on a contradiction, especially from a former student. "They are to the extent that they will live forever, never age; never die from disease, poison, or a wound. They can, however, be slain, for everything that bleeds may die. Their weaknesses are few and it's uncommon for one to be killed accidentally," she explained, her look daring him to speak out again. "I will let one of the Sidhe to explain it more fully to you if you wish."

Harry shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"How are you going to meet them?" asked Ron.

"I'm going to the Sithen later on to meet with an old friend," Professor McGonagall suggested, looking to Harry. "You and I can go. You will be able to see what the Sidhe have to offer, if this is the way you wish to become immortal, then I'll take you before the Queen and you may ask. It is not a guarantee that she'll accept or even acknowledge your request for an audience. But if You-Know-Who is striving towards his goal as ferociously as I imagine, then you should at the very least consider this possibility."

"I'm Harry Potter, Professor," Harry grumbled. "I've learned that when it comes to Voldemort, I hardly ever have a choice."

* * *

(**A/N) **Sorry it took a week longer then expected to get this up! I had life creep up unexpectedly and then could never find the time to get a chance to write. Once again, thanks to all who reviewed! Another reason was this chapter bugged me for some reason. It seems rushed and rough to me but I did promise the update, so once I get chapter two rolling, I'll come back and edit this baby.

Crazy Young Fool Your reviews aren't lame,  It's always good to get a review from you.

Saeadame Thanks! If you still want to, I'll take up your beta offer and send you chapter two as soon as I get it finished.

Mademoiselle Aurelie I noticed the odd scene change as soon as you pointed it out. wouldn't insert scene breaks. And I tried to make the plot tense, I'm glad to see it worked 

Wolfawaken Here's the more you asked for.

Cora For some reason you review made me laugh, as I read over my fic with a friend and she had said the same. Thanks for the compliment though.

Translations: _Questio Tabellae_ means Seeking (the) Letter in Latin.


	3. Condeco Regina

**Title:** Yn Anfarwol  
**Chapter:** Condeco Regina  
**Rating:** Teen (for now, I'm still not entirely sure how high it'll get)  
**Summary:** Harry Potter's race against time to become immortal before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and the lot belongs to J.K Rowling. The Sithen, Sidhe, and their customs belong to Ms. Hamilton, and Neo and all other original characters is mine.  
(**A/N) **Here's the next installment.

**Condeco Regina**

Rannoch Moorland, when Harry actually allowed himself to think over the startling beauty of the land, was not the first place he would have suspected a whole civilization would hide in. In fact, with all the muggles strolling about, he wasn't too sure if Professor McGonagall had used the correct port-key. Not that he would mention that aloud to her. He glanced over his shoulder; shewas staring intently at a small crystal orb, the inside swirling with silver smoke. When they had landed, she had pulled the orb from a pocket and immediately placed all her attention on it, ignoring any questions or looks he tossed her way.

And from the looks of it, her current fascination wouldn't fade anytime soon. So he contented himself with the view and left her to the orb. Facing the sunset, he watched as the light slowly pulled away from the moors and slithered behind the hills. Darker colors, purple, blue, and reds, crept up into the sky and painted twilight unlike any he'd ever seen from Gryffindor Tower.

He then glanced down to himself. Professor McGonagall had made him change into clothes one would wear to an informal event. His slacks were pressed, his button-up was sharp and crisp, and his tie itched worse then any of his school ties. She even did something to his hair that made it less unruly. She too had changed. Still in Wizarding robes, she wore an ensemble of dark blue robes over a different black under dress. Her hair was out of its customary bun and plaited down her back in a complicated design.

His attention drifted again, and with Professor McGonagall still intent on what she held, he looked at the Muggles. It was strange, being only yards away but having them not notice him at all. Professor McGonagall had explained that the Sithen, the home of the Fey, was akin to being UnPlottable, as was the moorland surrounding it. Any visitors to the Fey were ignored by those who weren't invited. Muggles could visit the land, and they did in droves, and never notice anything amiss. Their eyes would only catch Harry for a second then pass over him, forgetting about him as soon as he left their sight. In fact, the Fey could hold a battle and the Muggles would see only a turbulent wind on an otherwise summer day.

"Ah! I thought the connection had faded, what with the years being what they are nowadays."

Harry paused in his reflection and turned to see a misty figure of a woman hovering an inch or so above the orb. It reminded him of the prophecies but this figure was in the present, not the past.

"Novus," Professor McGonagall said, a smile curling over her features, "it's been a while."

"Too bloody long for my—" the woman was cut off by a rather odd explosion sounding off. Harry looked around and saw nothing amiss, even the muggles were peacefully going about as if nothing happened. "Damned experiment." The figure brushed herself off then spotted him. "Oh? Who's that Minerva?"

Harry looked to Professor McGonagall on what to do and her return look was one of 'well, introduce yourself'. So he did. "I'm uh, Harry Potter, ma'am."

Novus dropped her hands from slapping at something out of view, her eyes glinted with a hidden mirth as she looked him over. "Are you really? Well, the Queen will want to know that he's arrived then," she said, "are you sure about taking him in as well Minerva?"

"Yes, there's something …oh, I'd rather explain it in person. Can you summon the door for us?"

"Of course, just let me adjust this and it'll be there in half a blink." The figure of the woman called Novus dissipated with another loud bang and left Harry feeling rather left out.

"Door?" he asked, "Professor, we're in the middle of the moors."

"I see that Mister Potter," McGonagall stated simply, her eyes not on him but on a hillside a few meters south of them. She appeared to be waiting for something to happen. He copied her, watching the same hill and jumped in shock when a door appeared from the grassy knoll, and a ripple branched from that door to the surrounding hillsides. The Sithen, the Faerie Mounds, rose up before him as a small mountain range of emerald glass against the dying crimson melt of sky.

"Come along now." He followed her down a dirt path towards the door.

The path ended a ways away from the door. Coming closer, Harry could suddenly pick out faint music in the wind. Unable to make out the melody, Harry turned to find the source but found nothing. He turned back and faced the door. It was made of a wood he had never seen before. Dark grey and carved with intricate designs heralding back to a long-lost age, the door stood out against the soft green of the hill. It was large enough to have him and Professor McGonagall walk side-by-side in. There was no knocker, and no hinges from what he could tell. Professor McGonagall reached out a hand and brushed it over the center, her fingers tracing over one of the patterns. When she removed her hand, the door faded to an archway leading into a long hall. Light pooled out from that doorway and breathed like a luminousness fog into the crisp twilight.

Professor McGonagall murmured a word of thanks skyward and stepped inside, Harry at her heels.

* * *

The hallway inside was large enough to have Grawp walk without fear of slamming his head into the ceiling. The walls were made of granite and had that same pale light that had poured from the entrance in them; it came from everywhere and nowhere and surrounded them. Harry could see no torches and assumed that magic was at work. He had spent enough years at Hogwarts learning not to question everything. He caught up to McGonagall and the doorway vanished. He spun and saw only the plain grey wall. He hoped that was not the only exit.

Professor McGonagall led him along the deserted hall to a sharp bend. Rounding it, he saw that the hallway merged in with five others, all with the same stone on the walls. It would be very easy to get lost here. He trusted Professor McGonagall to know her way. She took the hall nearest them and, her heels clicking over the stone floor, to another door, this one tall and rounded off.

The door opened as they approached and the woman who had been the misty figure stepped out to meet them. She was about the same height as Professor McGonagall; her hair was the same raven-wing color as well. The differences came with the olive tint of her skin and golden eyes. She didn't look like the two people in the book.

"It's good you came here first. She's in the middle of her hobby," She was looking at her hands, brushing them off on a towel.

Professor McGonagall gently pushed Harry in front of her. "Mister Potter," she said.

The woman looked him over, her eyes touching on his scar. "You're shorter then I expected." She then held up a hand, a smirk on her features. "Then again, I've been around men with the average height of six and a half feet, so most other humans are short."

"You're human as well?" Harry blurted out. "But Professor McGonagall said the Sidhe lived here."

"They do, aye, but they tend to pick up one or two of us mortals and keep us as pets and companions." Novus's eyes glittered. "I have horrible manners, the name's Novus. However, if you want, you can be less prattish then Minerva here and call me 'Neo'." She held out a hand.

He took it.

Professor McGonagall glared at Novus but kept any thoughts she harbored to herself.

"So, Harry, there's only one reason why Minerva would drag you down here to gain audience with the Queen of Air and Darkness," Neo said brightly, tucking the towel away in a pouch at her hip.

"You know?" he asked.

She nodded and showed them inside. Packed over nearly every surface were caldrons, bottles, and gemstones. Cages lined the far wall, black drapes covering the top half of them. Notes were scattered about the place, soot reigned supreme over anything else on the walls, floors, and ceiling. The floor was the same stone as the hall but was pock-marked, like it had seen many explosions. He spotted a half-opened door hidden behind a stack of books taller then him, and then a sitting room less chaotic beyond that. The first thought Harry had was _Mad Scientist_ and it was gone with a shake of his head.

"Sorry about the mess, I'm still trying to work out the kinks in my latest experiment. It's normally much more organized." Her tone betrayed that it wasn't.

"Don't worry, it looks like Ron's room." Novus stared at him quizzically. "A friend of mine. What is all this for?"

Novus exchanged half a glance with Professor McGonagall, the other half formed in the smirk they shared. "He's rather blunt with his questions."

Professor McGonagall sighed, "I should have told him—"

"No, no, he's a breath of fresh air," Novus grinned.

"To you, perhaps." Professor McGonagall's lip quirked. "However, to everyone else in the Sithen, it'll only insult them." She turned to Harry to elaborate, "The Sidhe, well the Fey in general, look down on personal questions. It's complicated and would take years to fully detail, so I'll simply tell you to think very carefully before you speak here."

Novus gave her a long look that was hard to read before shrugging her shoulders and answering the question Harry had asked. "This front room is my alchemy lab. I've been practicing with knowledge passed down from over 5,000 years ago in the heart of the Nile valley." She appeared to read Harry's mind for she continued on without letting him ask anything aloud. "I'm reaching my one thousand and …twenty-third, or was it the twenty-fourth birthday. I don't remember exactly, it's been far too long," she said, "when the Fey offer eternal life, you forget little things like that."

Harry remained quiet, but stared. She was over a thousand years old? She looked in her early thirties, she hardly looked like someone who was older then Hogwarts itself!

"So!" Novus clapped her hands together, the sound jolting Harry and causing something to bubble behind her. "Oh blast it, Minerva; you'll have to go along a bit earlier, I'm afraid that I have to get back to work before another potion explodes."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Very well, is Aithra in her chambers or with the Queen?"

"She loathes the Queen's hobby; you know that," Neo muttered, her attentions on a tentacle creeping out of a cage, "she'll be in her chambers. You remember the way?"

"I do."

"Wonderful, take the lad along and introduce the two. They'll be seeing a lot more of each other as the month wears on." Novus shot a glance to Harry, slapping at the tentacle while she did.

Professor McGonagall halted in mid-turn and slowly turned back to Novus, directing her famous Look at the back of the alchemist's head. "What, pray tell, are you suggesting?"

"It's for the Queen to reveal. She's almost giddy about the boy's arrival."

"Oh dear." Harry had never seen that look cross Professor McGonagall's face. "That's never a good sign."

* * *

**Review Comments:**

Lady Urquentha: Thanks, I decided to have my Harry Potter wisened up about that fact.

dreamwalkblue: Neville's demise isn't forgotten, he'll pop up again. And Bellatrix is my secret-yet-not-so-secret favorite HP character besides McGongall. I normally see her as Drusilla from the Buffy series, but had her a bit more sane in this fic. She'll come around again too.

Elsie: Oh you know you enjoy slapping all that red over the paper :) I'm glad you like beta-ing this.


	4. A Grand Feast

**Title:** Yn Anfarwol  
**Chapter:** A Grand Feast  
**Rating:** Teen (PG-13)  
**Chapter Summary:** Harry Potter's race against time to become immortal before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named does.  
**DISCLAIMER:** Harry Potter and the lot belong to J.K Rowling. The Sithen, Sidhe, and their customs belong to Ms. Hamilton, and Neo and all other original characters is mine.  
(**A/N) **Sorry about the longer wait. I had a hard time trying to keep up with everything these past weeks and writing was one of the things I had to put on hold. My apologies to you all. Also, the titles are changing from Latin to English as one, it's a pain to translate to get them perfect, and two Harry's leaving the world of Latin-based spells.

**A Grand Feast**

Harry was still fretting over McGonagall's reaction as they walked from the room together. He was so deep in thought; he nearly walked straight into the guards in the corridor, which would certainly have been a mistake.

They stood like two knights on a chessboard. One was a solid black, like ebony given human form; the other was alabaster brought to life. Both had hair that fell to their ankles like curtains of silk. Their eyes were deep pools of darkness and light, and as Harry looked into them, he felt the strange sensation that he was falling. Each stared with the blank mask of a trained warrior, their hands touching the hilts of their weapons.

Professor McGonagall stared between them, her eyes darting from one to the other in quick motions, her lips pressed into a thin line and one of her hands still instinctively outreached to block Harry's passage, or to block their passage to Harry. It seems habits born of teaching him for seven years had not faded yet.

The ebony guard inclined his head and reached his hand up to press a fist against his chest in a salute. The marble one hesitated, and then did the same. Professor McGonagall responded only by lowering the hand held up before Harry.

"The Queen wishes you to join in the feast honouring the solstice."

Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry figured she couldn't really disagree with them, after all, they were in the Sidhe's world and had to play by rules he didn't understand.

The guards stepped to form a small space between them, the silent message for them to step into place. With a slight pause, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and Harry did the same, trusting in her judgment. They were escorted through the three-pronged hall into a hall that was double the size of the entrance. The stone was different too, black marble and, Harry shuddered, held a more sinister vibe, as if it was warning of the dark secrets beyond the large double doors at the end. Harry stepped closer to Professor McGonagall's side. Like with the door leading into the mound, Harry heard a faint noise, but instead of music, it was the low murmur of voices. The door was as elaborately carved, if not more so, then the entrance door. Roses and ravens entwined with strings of ivy on the dark wood. There were no knockers, and no hinges Harry could see.

Five yards from the door, were wild roses growing along the marble walls, branching out over the stone as an archway. Harry looked up to the roses on the ceiling and saw them quiver, like if they were alive and aware. At the door, the guards fell back in step and nodded for them to proceed on alone.

Professor McGonagall took the first steps forward again and with that movement the doors pushed back without a whisper of sound and opened onto a hushed throng room filled with Sidhe. A ripple ran through them, and a warm rush of magic rushed up to circle around Harry like a long-lost friend whispering an intimate hello. It coursed through his veins as he felt something respond to it, even his wand, hidden in his back pocket, gave off a pulse of magic. He shivered and took a glance to Professor McGonagall to see if it had affected her.

It had.

Professor McGonagall, as he knew her, was not standing there. Instead, a woman with all the grace of a predatory feline stood proudly, hair like a raven's wing piled up at her neck. Her skin, for lack of a better word, shimmered, and as she turned to face him, he saw that her irises had swirled into a triplet of grey circles. She gave him a small smile and murmured that she would explain once they had time. Harry made a mental note to hold her to that.

To a silent cue, she strode into the room and he followed in her wake, trying to keep his eyes focused straight ahead so he wouldn't get whiplash from looking at every corner of the room. Professor McGonagall stepped to the side and bowed low, dropping to a knee, and Harry no longer felt the need to stare everywhere. His eyes were locked on the dais, where the regal woman from the book sat in a throne and stared at him, her eyes even darker shadows then the picture. He sank to a knee as well, feeling a compelling urge to acknowledge this woman's power. She looked like Professor McGonagall now did, except primal, like she was the embodiment of darkness itself.

"You may rise Minerva, and young Harry." The woman's voice was sultry and smooth and rolled over his ears like a caress. They rose to their feet. She beckoned them to come closer, and they obeyed. The Queen stared at him for a heartbeat longer then what he was comfortable with and then nodded, a slow smile curling upon her lips. "You'll do. You'll do perfectly."

_What? _He wondered but was jarred from the thought when she waved a hand to a table to the right of the dais, gesturing for them to take the seats there. They did. As he settled into the chair, he leaned over to speak to Professor McGonagall. She was anticipating his question and started speaking before he could draw a breath.

"When I was younger, just before I took my post at Hogwarts, I had done several deeds better told with less people about," she said, "and for my reward the Queen granted me the boon of joining the Sidhe."

"So, you're not human anymore?"

She cocked her head and thought on her words before answering. "In a sense. I have all the abilities I had before, and the resistances as well. I am as much Sidhe as the UnSeelie will admit. The Seelie, on the other hand, well they're less progressive." Her lips quirked with wry amusement. "You, if the Queen deems you worthy, and I are in some ways more powerful then the Sidhe. Although we'll never receive a hand of power, or be able to call upon the shape shifting magic, we retain all ties to our own magical cores as well as our inability to be affected by iron."

"Why don't the Seelie acknowledge you?" Harry asked as another Sidhe entered and made his way towards the dais. This one was a soft butter-yellow and held a merry glint in his eyes.

"The Seelie are like the Malfoys, just without the dark taint. They want the Sidhe race to remain pure, untouched by the rest of Feydom, and as far from mortal blood as they can handle it. They prize themselves as the true Sidhe, even though their court is dying faster then this one."

"Dying?"

Professor McGonagall sighed and turned her look over the long tables. "Perhaps I'll share that tale another time, Mister Potter."

Harry nodded and looked to the door again, another ripple passing through the doorway. "What is that?"

Professor McGonagall watched the door and then smiled. "One of my deeds," she said. "It's a glamour spell, designed to reveal what every arrival hides. It would have sent a warm pulse through any wizard; it strips Sidhe of their glamour for the moment."

"Which is why you look the way you do now?"

"Exactly, Mister Potter. When I was younger, the court was washed with murder, assassinations, and back-alley attempts to seize power. With this, I gave the Queen the gift to have at least this throne room free of the tangles that come when politics and power mesh." She made to speak again, but the third opening of the door shushed her and she rose, along with almost the entirety of the hall, save for the Queen and a few Sidhe here and there. Harry stood as well and watched the spell ripple over the newcomer.

As the ripple faded, she stepped into view, her head held high and her steps assured. Wearing a long dress of jade, she swayed into the hall and captured its attention. Her hair was loose, and like the guard's, it fell in a scarlet wave to just above her ankles. As she neared, Harry noted that her eyes, though not like Professor McGonagall's smoky grey, or the Queen's shadowy black, were a silver sheen so bright it almost hurt to look into them. Like most of the Sidhe, her skin was a pale white.

"That would be Aithra," Professor McGonagall murmured, "the newest consort. And, as usual, she made an entrance."

That was the Aithra Novus had mentioned? Harry studied the woman as she stepped to the dais and dipped into a bow, shallower then anyone's before her. With a gesture from the Queen she went to take her seat at the smaller throne beside the Queen. Harry spied a silver circlet on her brow.

"She would be the one who suggested I bring you before the Queen tonight. I originally planned to have you meet Queen Andais under less activity."

"Do you know her?"

"She was one of my dorm mates for seven years, I gather I know her better then most here," Professor McGonagall quipped, her voice light with amusement.

"She went to Hogwarts?"

Professor McGonagall nodded as several Sidhe came in from side doors clad in heavy chain mail. They lined up before the dais and announced the first of several duels. "Aithra's a rarity of her race. Her father had been a Satyr visiting up from Greece who dallied with one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting; now he's a rather subdued noble. Aithra's the result of that union, and apparently, somewhere in her father's bloodline, is a witch. Now, in a bizarre twist of fate, Aithra gained some ability to call upon mortal magic, what you and I control Potter." Professor McGonagall paused as the duellists saluted the Queen and then each other. "She was sent to Hogwarts by her mother to see if she could up her daughter's place in the court. She went, made it through all seven years, then returned here. Her …quirk was kept secret and now, I see that her mother's plan worked. The Queen rarely takes consorts."

"Oh."

They fell silent and watched the mock-battle take place. The two sides clashed together with a roar, swords slashing wildly, shields slamming together. Harry watched, fascinated, as the field was whittled down to two knights, both with long swords, their shields tossed aside, ruined. They circled each other like wolves, their eyes locked, their hands deathly tight on their swords. At a silent urge they rushed at the other, their swords coming together with a loud ringing of metal. Side-steps, parries, thrusts, and a few body-hits, and soon one crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood seeping through the white of his tunic. Harry looked to Professor McGonagall for assurance that this was just for sport and saw her watching the duel with contempt, then he recalled her distaste for physical fighting and decided not to ask her after all.

After a minute, the fallen knight clambered to his feet and saluted his opponent and the Queen before limping off to a side.

"No matter how many I see, I will always prefer a wizard's duel over a sword-fight," Professor McGonagall stated as the next batch of knights walked to the center. They were never allowed to give a salute though, for the doors slammed open and a stronger pulse shuddered painfully through the crowd, the result leaving Harry feeling as if he'd just dived into a very hot bath.

A Sidhe ran in, his emerald hair matted with the dark stains of blood. He ran towards the dais, a parcel in his hands. His skin, where it was not covered with blood, was golden, opposite of what Harry thought the normal to be here. He flung himself into a kneeling position and slapped his hands onto the floor in a bow, his package skittering a few inches away.

"Queen Andais—"

The Queen rose and stepped down the several steps, her hands tucked behind her back and her posture wary. At the bottom she grabbed him by the neck and brought him to his feet.

"And what is a simpering Seelie doing here in the Court of Darkness?"

"The trods, King Taranis bade us to travel through the trods," he paused to allow her a chance to speak and when she didn't he hurried to finish telling his tale. "When we refused, he went into a rage, saying that the Dreaming was his to command, not some upstart exile."

At the word exile, the Queen dropped the man and turned to glance upward to where Aithra's unblinking gaze met hers. "Go on," she murmured.

"He sent three of us through. I, Lord Niall, and …" he reached for the package and offered it to her. Harry had the sudden impulse to look away as the paper was peeled from whatever was inside. He was glad he did when gasps of horror rang through the hall. "Prince Daibhidh."

At that the murmurs and whispers went silent. Dead silent. Noise left the throne room and it seemed that light followed for upon them Harry saw shadows encroaching, crawling over the walls, sliding on the ceiling. Even the air was thicker.

"The feast is concluded." The Queen's voice was ice, cold and firm. She had rewrapped the parcel and was striding to the doors. "Aithra, Lady McGonagall, young lord Harry, follow me."

Harry stood with Professor McGonagall and with a sideways glance to the Seelie messenger, followed the Queen of Air and Darkness into the depths of the Sithen.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, this was a longer process then I thought. I am sorry for the wait.

**Thanks: **Lady Urquentha: Don't worrry, Aithra's not Harry's next love interest, I can assure you :)

Crazy Young Fool: Oh shush. :) And I hope you liked Neo, I worked hard on her.


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